Night of the Lanterns
by merciki
Summary: very year, to celebrate the summer, paper lanterns light up the dark of the night. Written for the D12Drabbles challenge. Prompt: Dreams


In the last few years, Katniss had often wondered if the Festival of the Lanterns was still the same. If the lights she had seen wandering in the dark of the night when she was a little girl would still have the same faery in them - if she was still able to hear the stars singing.

It had been years now since the last time she went to the Meadow, the large field where the Festival was held, in times where the Everdeens were a family of four, living happily together in their small house on the verge of Seam forest.

Katniss remembered the care with which she had done her wreath this year, with willow branches and laced with all kind of herbs she had found in the woods with her father the week before the festival, gathering ferns, long logs of elderberries, wild garlic. How carefully she had put it on her head, still too young to let it float on the water for a boy to catch it. She remembered the lights too, flowing into the night, white against black, the little candles from the wreaths inside burning like hearts.

Now twelve years later, a father dead to an accident in the mines, a mother the ghost of herself working herself up to exhaustion at the hospital, and a sister away in college, Katniss wondered if maybe it was the right time to try and go back.

But she couldn't muster the courage to do so. She had marked the date on her calendar, circling the 6th of July with a green pen, trying to not think about it every time her eyes fell on it. She would need to figure out soon if she was strong enough to go back home for the Festival.

Not that the fact of going home was scary, no. She would be happy to see family friends - the Hawthornes, the Cartwrights, who stood with her when her dad died, when her mother lost herself in memories of a love now gone. They had helped young Katniss with everything they could, from food - a loaf of bread from the town's bakery - or even providing work as soon as she turned of age.

But she knew they would ask her to come with them to the Festival. To spend time eating at the food trucks, trying all kind of specialities, watching the artists dancing or playing with fire, the acrobats or the mimes, until it would be time to let the lantern into the air. Some countries had fireworks that lit the sky on fire. District 12, her hometown, had lanterns in the night that bathed the sky in warmth.

Katniss looked at the calendar again, wondering what her dream friend would say.

He was her best kept secret. Not even her sister knew about the young man she was meeting every night, in her dreams. He was hers, the person she could talk to every night, the constant in her life.

And it didn't matter if Peeta was only an imaginary friend.

It had all started one day, out of the blue, out of the nothingness that had been her life. Her dad had passed away a few weeks before, and she had been on the verge of breaking down too. There was no food left for Prim to eat, no hope that her mother would come out of her stupor, no future, no hope. Nothing. Just an empty stomach on shivering bones, just the wait for death coming to claim her.

That's when Peeta had appeared, in her dream, that very special night. She could feel in her sleep, the way he had looked at her, with so much pain and sadness, with such soft eyes it made her ache for his hand, made her ache for his warmth. But as much as she had tried to move towards him, he would back away, in sync with her own steps, until they had reached a large green field, lit by the light of the dandelions that lingered everywhere. Then he had stopped, looking at the flowers on the ground, kneeling to pick one of them, not even the brightest or biggest, but the most beautiful to her heart.

That's when Katniss had woken up. She knew it was just a dream, yet at the same time, it was more than just something her mind had created. She had been quite sure at the time it was the desperate attempt of her brain to not die, showing her that there was food around if she looked closely enough.

The young man - she thought he had been her age - had saved her life. From then, she had dreamt of him regularly.

He had given her the strength to start hunting in the woods, and the will to go on when she wanted to throw her bow away, when she couldn't hit a single prey. He had been there every time she needed to talk, every night after the nightmares came to plague her with their atrocities, when her mind was strong enough to reach out for him. He had come every single time.

It wasn't a one sided relationship, even if it wasn't a real one. She had sensed the time he had needed her, when he had sought a bit of closeness to another human being - he was so lonely, so sad at times. Sometimes, she could feel his pain in her sleep, as if someone was hurting him - another trick of her tortured brain, she thought, that reminded her of what she came through. Sometimes he just needed to talk, and she had spent countless nights discovering the beauties of nature through his words.

Even to this day, at the old age of twenty-four, she still dreamt of him. Still saw him in her sleep, all grown up and smiling, in their field of dandelions. The dreams had never changed, having this comfortable quality, this warmth and easiness, a familiarity she didn't even find with her own sister, when Prim was coming back.

Even to this day, as she just came back from a disastrous date - why she still caved in to accept them, she was still wondering - leaving the guy she had had dinner with in the parking lot with absolutely no interest in going out with him again. Why did she keep measuring the men she dated on a Peeta scale? She knew he was a dream, someone her mind made up that was everything she needed, someone she would never meet, someone she should be able to get over, yet couldn't.

She sighed, as she took off her light makeup, unbraiding her hair, preparing herself for a good night of sleep. She would have to decide soon enough whether she was going back to D12 or not, whether she would have enough courage to face the Festival of the Lanterns.

"There you are," he whispered as she approached him in the field lightened by the bright yellow of the dandelions surrounding them. "I wondered if you'd come tonight."

"Why wouldn't I?" Katniss asked, curious about what made him think she wouldn't be coming, as she remained just behind his left shoulder.

"Because of the man you saw tonight? Maybe you wanted to spend time with him?"

"Thresh?" She couldn't believe her mind would think she would give a chance to the guy. Sure he was kind and cute enough, but there wasn't any spark between them. "No. He's not…" She shrugged, unable to find the words she wanted to say.

"He's not what?" His words were carried by the small wind that made the dandelions curve and dance with him, coming back to her ears in his smooth voice.

She just shrugged, not daring to give him the answer that was singing in her head.

"I wonder if I should go back home to the Festival of Lanterns…" she answered instead. Running away had always been her coping mechanism to anything frightening like feelings. Even in her dreams.

"Depends, really," Peeta answered. She could see his jaw from her position behind him, sharp like marble, adorned with a bit of five o'clock shadow, his look lost in the sea of gold in front of both of them.

"On what?" Katniss asked, more out of habit than wanting an answer.

"On if you want to go."

He turned then, his blue eyes looking straight into her grey ones, a look so pure and full of something she couldn't - wouldn't - name.

"Do you want to go, Katniss?"

"I don't know," she whispered back.

Something in the back of the field caught her eye. She finally made the last step that brought her next to Peeta, so close she could feel the hair on his arms tickling her skin. There she could see them in the back. A dark haired girl gently leading a blond toddler through the field, all the while holding a wreath in her other hand. Prim and I, Katniss thought, just as the girl looked above her shoulder, right at her, with the same blue eyes she had seen earlier.

"Who are they?" she asked, never leaving the kids out of her sight, and she felt Peeta's eyes leaving her face to look at the scene in front of them.

"What could be, maybe?" She couldn't help but notice the hope that was carried in his voice. "If you would take a chance."

The buzz of her alarm woke her up from her dream, from the field of golden flowers dancing in the wind, from the warmth of the sun, or was it from Peeta? All she knew was her brain had sent her a message. But damn if she could understand it.

Weeks and days passed, until the green circle on the calendar became too close to avoid. She had to make a decision, to decide whether or not she was going to her hometown, to face the ghosts of the past, to face the ghosts of her future.

Maybe it was time.

She wouldn't know until she tried.

Before she could change her mind, she left a message at work, packed her car, and was on the road to District 12. The Festival was two days ahead.

—

The first step was always the hardest. She had realized that getting out of the family house on the night of the Festival had been the most difficult part of her day so far, as all the memories came back to her. She didn't know whether she should go on her own - her mother too busy with work to accompany her - or just go with their long time friends, the Hawthornes, before she realized she was already late to the party.

When she arrived at the Meadow, she could see everything had already started, the dancers moving to the music, the mimes and acrobat being cheered by the crowd, the food trucks packed with lines of people waiting for their turn.

And everywhere, teenaged and small girls with their wreath, waiting for the moment when they could put them into the water, before the grown ups started launching the lanterns in the sky.

A group of adolescents passed in front of her, giggling and muttering, no doubt wishing for the boys they had a crush on to catch their wreaths in the flow of the river, to be able to come and talk to them, following a hundred years long tradition.

Katniss couldn't prevent the small smile on her lips, recalling times long gone, when she had carefully wrapped a wreath in the hope that the cute boy from kindergarten would catch it. Nobody ever came to give her wreath back.

A loud cheer came from the crowd, gathering all the girls in a mass of glitter and ribbons, in the sounds of giggles and whistles, as the time to launch the Lanterns was upon them. Every single girl under twenty-five from the town marched, some quickly, some taking the time to show the people watching their wreath, before reaching the river and letting them float away, after they had carefully lit the candle in the center.

Every girl under twenty-five but one, that stood apart from the crowd, looking at the party with a sad smile, wishing she had a wreath too.

Katniss suddenly realized that she could do her wreath too - she had everything around her, she could be a part of the festival one more time, for the last time, to close this chapter of her life. She hastily gathered a few branches from the birch trees around, lacing them with long leaves of grass and ferns, making a nest of some kind that would float - if not for a long time.

The ruckus of the boys catching the wreaths on the river was at its highest, echoing in the night.

She moved closer to the stream, her creation in her hands. Staring at it, she couldn't help but feel a bit proud of herself for still being able to build one after all these years. She kneeled near the river, the hem of her long brown skirt toying with the water, ready to put the wreath on it, when she realized it didn't have the most important part of it inside. She didn't have a candle to lit a flame.

She looked around in vain, hoping to find one of them discarded in the grass. But her eyes fell on her own kind of flame, on the thing that was as radiant as the sun, as warm as the fire in the chimney. A single dandelion, poking proudly in the remaining beams of light.

She grabbed the wildflower with a small smile on her face, turning it between her fingers before bringing it to her lips, kissing its golden crown, before putting it down in the middle of her creation.

With a deep breath, she finally put her wreath onto the water, watching it float alongside the stream, turning, dancing on the waves.

Katniss watched it leave, her heart heavy with the memories - she knew it was an outlet for her own losses - her dad, dead; her mother, lost to her work; her sister, building her life away from her - but maybe it was also the start of something for her too, being able to let go of the shadows of her past, to move on.

The wreath was soon lost in the dark of the setting sun. Katniss had no doubt it would only float a few minutes before sinking - it wasn't built to last, this one, but she decided to follow it until its end, to say goodbye.

But she stopped dead in her tracks, never expecting the sight she was faced with.

A lantern, made of paper, blocked in the branches of a tree, which was odd, as the Lanterns weren't due to fly until a few hours later.

Katniss carefully untangled the paper from the branches, being attentive not to tear down this fragile confection, wondering all the while how it could have ended here. When she was done, and the lantern was completely removed from the tree, she turned it, checking for holes in the paper when she saw the drawing on one of the sides.

A dandelion.

A carbon copy of the one Peeta had picked in that field, on the first night she dreamt of him, so long ago.

The dandelion that gave her hope.

That gave her life.

That she never forgot.

How could it be drawn onto a lantern?

"You found it!" A deep, baritone voice came from the other side of the lantern, its owner hidden by the thin paper.

Katniss lowered her hands, seeing a mop of curly hair appearing first, followed by blue eyes shining in the orange of the sunset.

"You…" she whispered, the man in front of her being the man she had been meeting in her dreams since she was twelve. "But… it's…"

"It's impossible… " She heard him say, as his face showed astonishment beyond measure, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

But Katniss couldn't believe hers either.

"I must be sleeping," she muttered, her whole body wanting to touch him, her brains screaming it wasn't real.

"What's your name?" She asked suddenly, as she looked at the man in front of her clenching his fists, his knuckles whitening as if he was trying to convince himself he was wide awake.

"I'll tell you yours if you tell me mine," he answered.

She saw him take a deep breath, closing his eyes, and it was as if the night had fallen suddenly without their light.

Without opening them, he started. "Your name is Katniss. Real or not real?"

"Real. And you are Peeta."

At her words, he finally opened his eyelids, revealing tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks.

"Real. How is this possible? I saw you in my dreams!"

"I know. I was there too," she answered, feeling the moisture on her face too.

He made the first step, but did it matter, really? She found the shelter she needed in the embrace of his warmth, the words that appeased her mind in the sound of his voice, the water she needed to drink in the blue of his eyes. They shared what little they didn't know about each other's lives, touched each other's face, until they realized this was real, real, so real.

Hand in hand they finally reached the meadow, as the lanterns were already floating in the sky above, brightening the black of the night with all kinds of oranges and yellows.

When they released their lantern, together, they knew each pass of wind on the paper was backing the ghosts and shadows away, opening the path for them to dance on.

—

It was the night of the Festival of the Lanterns, again.

Sitting on a blanket, a brown haired woman and a blond man, holding hands were carefully watching a little girl with dark curly hair holding her wreath in one of her hands, and her little blond brother in the other, leading them towards the river nearby. When they arrived, she carefully sat the toddler on a flat rock, urging him with her fingers and a scowl not to move, before turning to her parents, her blue eyes smiling at them.

* * *

Okay, this is going to be like the longest A/N I've written.

Thank you first to d12drabbles team for coming up with this prompt :)

I had another prompt lingering in my inbox, courteousy of akai-echo (this one: She often dreamed about him. Since she was a child the boy with the bluest eyes she has ever seen, joined her in her dreams, to rescue her from her worst nightmares or even just to spend some peaceful and relaxing time with her. They never met, but their souls know each other so well anyway. So one day, when their paths finally crossed, they knew they were meant to be.).

Then to bandathebillie for the videos of the Kupala festival in Poland. They were the inspiration for this drabble :)

and to the awesome, incredible dandelion-sunset, who beta-ed this so well (and trust me, there were a TON of mistakes !)

okay, okay, to the story, shall we ?

I'm thegirlfromoverthepond on tumblr  
Reviews, kudos and comments make my day :)


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